Alternate Endings: Wizards vs Angels
by CallYouByYourName
Summary: In which Justin remained a Dark Angel, and the Compass was never returned. Jalex, angst, Dark!Justin. Justin/Alex, Justin/Rosie.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Alternate Endings: Wizards vs Angels: Chapter 1

**Fandom: **Wizards of Waverly Place

**Word Count: **10,097

**Spoilers/episodes: **Wizards vs Angels

**Rating/Content/Warnings: **Jalex. NC-17, I think.** This is quite a bit darker than any of my other Jalex stories. Please be aware that this story contains incest (duh), violence, gore, suicidal ideation, Dark!Justin, eternal damnation, ANGST, _slightly _nonconsensual scenes, and the 'F' word (once). **

**A/N: **This story started life as a chapter for my **'Alternate Endings' **series, but quickly grew out of control as I became infatuated with writing Dark!Justin. (Seriously, how fun is that guy!) Also, I have it on good authority that it's both a bad fit for the fluffy stuff, and a heck of a long trip to make all at once, being a kajillion words long and all. So I'm going to pull it out as it's own story as well as post it in chapters.

I was tempted to give this an 'M' rating… but it's not _quite_ bad enough for that. Next time, I'll try harder.

Also, this is my first real attempt at angst. If you like it, I'd be thrilled all the way to the tips of my writerly toes if you'd reach deep into your soul and give it some love, in review or PM form. And if I screwed it up, let me know where I took a wrong turn so I can get it right next time, huh? And if you don't have the time or inclination to do those things, I hope you enjoy it all the same.

**Beta:** Thanks (yet again) to my amazing beta TheWolfHourx for catching my mistakes, pointing out the good stuff, fielding my frantic requests. If she didn't have my back, these stories I'm posting would be all kinds of messed up, trust me on this. Go check out her newest fic '**The Bad Alex' **if you haven't already!

**_Disclaimer:_**_I don't Wizards of __Waverly Place__, or anything else that might look familiar. I *know*, right?_

* * *

**_Summary:_ **In Wizards vs Angels, Justin gave up his magic to join his girlfriend Rosie in the Dark Realm and stole the Moral Compass from the Guardian Angels, thus plunging the world into chaos and evil. In the episode, Justin was eventually redeemed, the Compass returned, and the world restored to balance.

This is the _other_ thing way things might have gone down.

* * *

On a rooftop high above the city, Justin Russo paces outside a cellblock of sorts. It's a rude cage, hastily constructed with a specific purpose in mind. It's an ugly thing of brick and wire and cruelty, built to hold the heart's desire of the Dark Lord's new apprentice. The wind howls along the rooftops.

Justin paces, nervousness and excitement gathering in him. For so long now he's denied what he wants, what he _is_. There has always been an evil in him, always an empty place in his soul for the one thing he couldn't have. Always he's known a hunger that eats at him daily, breaking open wide cracks for the wind to blow through. All his life, he's struggled against it, if only to protect others. That's over now, which is good. All that hiding and struggling and protecting has exhausted him. Justin is _tired. _

Now there's nothing left to protect. Well, almost nothing. Just the one thing, and that's waiting for him on the other side of the door. Chained to the wall. Unable to escape.

Now that he knows where he belongs, there's no need to pretend. He knows what he wants. Justin steels himself, and opens the door.

The sight of her goes through him like a natural disaster, leveling him, burning him down:

_Alex._

* * *

"_Do you know how long it takes to form a new habit? Technically speaking?" Justin Russo had asked one of his fellow Dark Angels one day, feeling the momentary pull of his old, trivia loving self, the guy with the big brain and the unruined soul, the guy with a family. _

_Not waiting for a reply, he'd rushed on, "Twenty one days, that's how long. They've done scientific studies. In less than two weeks, I'll be free of all the things of my old life – my weak, pathetic Wizard life. I'll be one of you!" Justin looked at him expectantly, but the big quiet ogre had simply gone away, to eat his meal rations somewhere else._

_When it came to finding someone to sit with at lunchtime, the Dark Realm was worse than middle school._

* * *

_Yesterday:_

Justin Russo, Angel of Darkness, leaned on the parapet that circled the rooftop of the Dark Fortress, and stared into the void. He felt numb. That was good.

When he wasn't numb Justin felt strangely hollow, almost worse than what he'd felt before everything changed. Before _he _changed. He felt incomplete, as if his heart was walking about in the world, and he had no claim to it. He didn't like to think about it, if he could help it. He preferred not to think at all. He preferred not to feel.

It'd been just twenty days since he's become a creature of the darkness. Twenty days ago he surrendered his innocence and his magic; honestly, it feels like a _lifetime._ Twenty long, dark days, in which he's seen, and done, and _been_ things he'd never have believed himself capable of. Twenty days ago he'd renounced his wizardry, his humanity, and nearly everything he believed in.. At the time, he'd thought he was doing it for... well, for love.

How _ironic._

There was light sound on the stair, but Justin pretended he didn't hear her. He ignored her as she slid up behind him, standing too close. He felt her fingers walk up his back and over his shoulders, and thought of spiders. He became acutely aware of the tension in her body, the soft crush of her full breasts pushed against his back, and her hips cupping his. She was a creature of soft curves and supple flesh, well-trained in seduction, conditioned against arguing with her betters, and made for delight… she's everything he ever wanted. Once.

Her lithe fingers slid down his sides until she could bring her arms around his waist. Sinuous, they reminded him of snakes. She pressed her lips to his shoulder, then the side of his neck, and a dull heat flared in him, distant as a memory of love. "Go away, Rosie," Justin murmured.

She paused, but then her hands moved down, touching his hips. Skimmed the waistband of his black pants. Crept lower.

With a growl of distaste, Justin peeled her fingers from his belt, drew her hand away from his body, and pivoted to throw her to the blacktop surface of the roof. The Angel cried out, breaking her fall awkwardly with her hands. "Justin!"

And another, buried part of himself, a Justin that didn't hit girls or steal things or rejoice the suffering of others, was sorry. That Justin wept inside himself, hating the thing he'd discovered he can be.

But the rest of Justin stands over the weeping girl and smiled. "I thought you _liked_ it rough, Rosie."

The Angel swabbed her angry tears with the back of her hand. "I thought you were different, Justin," she accused him softly. The words had no sting. It wasn't the first time she's used them on him.

"I was, before you came along." His gaze flickered along her prostrate form with marked disinterest. "What do you want?"

Moving warily now, she picked herself up and drew close to him again. She didn't touch him again. The cold part of Justin noted with approval that was afraid of him, and was glad.

Rosie, her body angled away from him now, rested her forearms on the wall and stared down into the city, With lowered eyes, she told him, "The Master himself has asked that I speak with you, Justin. He..." she swallowed. "He's asked that you meet with him in his chambers. Tonight."

His upper lip curled in a sneer. "You can run home and tell _Daddy _that I won't be a part of his ridiculous, doomed plan to infiltrate the Wizard World. Not until

he's ready to offer me something of value."

Rosie's face was pale and drawn of blood as she looked at him. _"Please,_ Justin! You think that you can bargain with him, make your own rules, but you're wrong! You've been in his good graces up until now... you don't really understand what he is. He can be so, so much worse."

The fallen Angel stretched a beseeching hand toward her onetime lover, but drew it back at a cold, warning look from his grey eyes. "Justin, don't do this. This is insane. He's going to destroy you, unless you give him what he wants."

"You know, it's funny... it seems like I've heard that before. The last time he threatened to throw me off the roof, he ended up giving me a promotion."

"Justin, this isn't a game! Making you Guardian of the Moral Compass, that was like a joke to him. You don't know the atrocities he's capable of; you just got here. I've been with him so long. I know! I've seen! He'll destroy everything you love before he comes for you, he'll take your parents, little Max..." She hesitated, dropping her voice an octave, "...Alex."

Rosie cried out as the Wizard struck her hard across the mouth. Her hand rushed to cover her split lower lip as she stared at him, misery written in her eyes. Justin reached out for her and she flinched away, but he was faster. He squeezed her chin between his long fingers, bringing his face close to hers in a cruel parody of tenderness, until they were practically nose to nose. He turned his head, lining his mouth up with hers as if they were going to kiss, but his was voice is low and dangerous. _"You keep her name out of your filthy mouth,"_ he snarled.

He shoves her away from him then, making her stagger, although she regained her balance before she could fall. "You've done what you were told, " he said flatly, turning his back on her. " Now run and give Daddy my reply."

Rosie, who was, after all, brave for the broken thing she was, lingered in the dark behind him. "_Justin, please?"_ For a moment, she sounded so much like another, more familiar voice that he felt his temples begin to throb with the warning pain that signaled a migraine. Still, he wouldn't move.

"I love you, Justin," she breathed, "...I wish it could have been different. I wish my heart was mine to give." She was silent for so long that he began to wonder if she'd gone. Then she added quietly, "If it was, I'd give it to you."

Justin didn't stiffen or flinch at her words. He wouldn't give the girl any outward indication of the hot spike of pain she'd driven into him, because Justin liked to think he was is stronger than that. He stood still and silent, just as though he couldn't feel her misery gathering like a stormcloud behind him.

"He says to come at midnight," she said softly, and stole away.

A long time after she'd gone, he turned to look at the spot where she'd stood.

"If you'd loved me," he told the emptiness, "you would have let me die."


	2. Chapter 2

_Day One:_

Justin still remembers how on the first night of his new life, Rosie had led him up to the rooftop, where they could be alone. At the time, she'd said she wanted to be alone with him so they could plan how they'd spend the rest of their dark, damned, and intertwined lives together. He'd been happy, or something that was so close to happiness that he couldn't tell the difference until later on. _Finally_… Justin knew where he belonged. He'd found her, the girl who would love him forever. They'd held one another, looking down on New York from the rooftop fortress, sharing the occasional laugh when the fires in the streets burned out of control or the constant low soundtrack of despair was pierced by a scream, sharp and bright as a clean knife. They danced to the music of police sirens and breaking glass and alarms bells screaming for backup that would never come. Chaos was breaking loose down there, and it was all because of them. Justin held the girl he loved, and he was happy.

Justin couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so powerful, so accepted, so _alive_, and he told her so. Rosie had given him a knowing look. "You're hesitating, though... I-I can feel it." She smiled at him bashfully, and something in her smile was infinitely sad.

He frowned. "You can? But I thought that your powers as an Angel of the Light..."

"Were gone? No. Only _mostly_ gone. Like your powers, as a Wizard. Only mostly gone. The darkness of our world can only suppress the good in you, like a drug that hides pain or fear. But it can't ever alter your true nature. Not really."

Well. _That_ was bad news. He'd hoped, naively, that his remaining powers, diminished as they were, would work as a kind of secret weapon, should he need one.

But he wasn't going to need a plan B, this time. He had a new life here, he had a new kind of family, and he had Rosie.

He had everything.

* * *

_Day Two:_

He'd been a Dark Angel for exactly two days when he cut his all ties with his family; Gorog and his new brethren had rather strongly insisted. Theresa and Jerry at first had wanted to deny the change in him, had refused to believe that he'd let so much darkness in so fast. Max was hurt and confused, joking in a way that was meant to make things better… and Alex had said nothing at all, just looked at him with those expressive eyes of hers. Pain, anger, confusion, disappointment... it had all been there in her eyes. But she wouldn't say a word.

Of all the things he'd had to bear as he said goodbye, her looking at him that way had been the hardest. That was the last time he'd seen her. But he had Rosie, now. He found he was able to put her entirely out of his mind.

Most of the time.

* * *

_Day Three:_

On day three, he woke up to find Rosie gone. At first he thought she'd just gotten up ahead of him, but the mocking Angels around him had soon set him straight. Evidently, those spies and masters that inhabited the Dark Realm had judged him to be sufficiently loyal, appropriately evil, and thoroughly trapped; the decoy was no longer necessary. The illusion had done its job.

The whole thing made his stomach hurt. He should have been shocked, but instead the whole betrayal felt almost inevitable. It was like he'd always known it would happen. Had he honestly believed that a girl like that would spend eternity with Justin Russo?

It would be several days before he saw her again, and when he did, it would be in Gorog's company.

* * *

_Day Six:_

Seeing Rosie was a shock. He'd been on one of the lower floors at the time, practicing with his new wings, using a small unruined terrace for landings and takeoffs. A few of his Dark Brothers lazed around watching him, but already their presence had begun to feel less like companionship and more like surveillance. When he re-entered the building, after a particularly good landing (if Justin did say so himself), Gorog was there. Justin dropped to his knees and lowered his head, respectfully.

The Dark Lord insisted he get up, that someone so special as Justin had no need to stand on ceremony. He'd made a special trip, he said, for the sole purpose of making a fuss over Justin: the fallen Wizard had been instrumental an attack on Guardian Angel Headquarters, a mission claimed the lives of several Guardian Angels, and led to great deal of profitable looting. Yes, even without taking into account his esteemed role as guardian of the Moral Compass, Justin was obviously moving up quickly in the ranks: Gorog was, he assured him, "Keeping his eye on you, my boy! Great things ahead for you, eh? Great things!"

For that visit Gorog was dressed to the nines, as always, in his neat black tuxedo, complete with tophat and tails. He wore gloves on his large hands; sometimes Justin wondered why he never took them off, but perhaps it was best not to think about it. But it wasn't his outfit that had arrested Justin's attention: it was the girl he wore like an accessory at the end of a long velvet leash.

As if to taunt him, Rosie had been dressed in an outlandish red lace confection that left very little to the imagination. He felt sure it would have made the old Justin blush, if not actually pass right out. Her full breasts were contained (barely) in a candy-colored merriwidow, and a nearly transparent garter-belt held fishnet stockings to her long legs, as she balanced delicately on a pair of stilettos. Tarted up for the occasion, her pretty red hair was fixed to her head with pins, and her makeup painted in thick exotic strokes. Her wings had been clipped, and were restrained by some sort of chain mesh that couldn't have been very comfortable, and would have prevented any flight. She wouldn't look at Justin.

* * *

_Day Seven:_

"Justin, he's been good to me, in his way, " she'd beseeched him, when she was able to catch him alone.. "He could... Perhaps... Be good to you too? If only you'd do the things he wants. He says you have… potential? And we'd be together. " She tried to keep the desperate hope from her voice, but he could hear it.

It wasn't a prospect that filled Justin with joy: Joining Gorog's inner circle, crawling and toadying in order to have Rosie's leftover affection, like some kind of consolation prize. Of course, since losing Rosie, nothing brought him joy. But very few things hurt him, either; he was numb to the world, but that was okay. It helped to be numb, when he needed to do bad things.

And he needed to do a great number of bad things.


	3. Chapter 3

_Yesterday, midnight:_

"Justin, my boy! Sit down, sit down!" It was nearly midnight on day number twenty, and Justin Russo stood before the Dark Lord himself, responding to Rosie's summons. It was one thing to make rebellious noises when his pet came to call on you, quite another to refuse his summons. Rosie was curled at the foot of Gorgon's throne, her eyes lowered deferentially. The flickering light from the torches caught the sparkle in her black sequined corset, and made it shine. In the jittering shadows, her split and swollen lip hardly stood out at all. Her vulnerable pale skin was flawless, which only emphasized the elegant black feathers of her perfect wings. One of Gorgon's gloved hands was tangled in her red hair.

Her eyes lit on Justin briefly, secretly, but he could read no private message there and no remorse; only a queer species of drugged bliss he felt unclean for having seen. Beautiful, soiled and damned, Rosie was surely the very opposite of love. Her master saw her looking and ordered her from the room.

"Don't pay any attention to that little whore," he said dismissively, while she was still easily within earshot. "Only good for one thing, am I right?" Justin said nothing.

In a grotesque pantomime of the perfect host, Gorog rose from his throne to greet his guest. Even his garb, his top hat and velvet gloves perfect, his tuxedo expensive though oddly stained, contributed to the formal charade. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? The blood of innocents?" Gorog made a guttural chuckle. "Ah, that _last_ one was a joke. Unless, of course, you want it." He peered at the boy with a sharp, assessing look Justin didn't like very much. _"Do_ you?"

"No... thank you," Justin murmured, dropping his eyes obsequiously. He wanted to stand, or perhaps even to leave, didn't want to enter into conversation with this, this _thing,_ but he lowered himself into one of the monstrously carven chairs strewn across the dais, instead. The cushions seemed to cradle him, whispering comfort as he relinquished his weight to them and they exhaled air.

With a merry snap of his black gloved fingers, the Master of the Dark Realm vanished from the throne, then rematerialized sitting across from him.

Justin wondered, not for the first time, what he kept under his gloves. Under his hat. He never took them off, not even to sleep.

"Well, Justin," he said chummily, with the kind of manic good cheer that was his trademark, and which Justin already suspected hid something much more frightening... a giggling madness, maybe. "What _do_ you want? Think hard, Justin m'boy. Because you see, today I'm your fairy godfather. I'm Santa Claus. I'm that bad old magic lamp with just one wish left Justin dear, and I'm here to make your dreams come true!"

Gorog spread his hands theatrically, eyes rolling to show the whites, and the bruised sky obliged him with an evil peal of thunder. Justin smiled dryly.

"Yes, you have to love the special effects," the Dark Lord agreed. "But Justin, enough fucking around. Let's talk _turkey._ Man to man?" He snapped his fingers again. The sound of velvet on velvet barely was a hush, hardly there at all, but reality slid sideways and they were in a new room. Justin disliked it at once.

* * *

Justin and Gorgon sat in matching thrones at a long conference table. The light in the room was faint and murky, although a shiny banker's lamp sat on the table between them. The bad lighting wasn't the room's worst feature, though, nor was it the fetid, rank smell of rotting meat that permeated the place. Instead, that distinction was reserved for the rusty metal hooks hanging from chains in the dim ceiling, and the bald, bleeding carcasses they held. The nearest one, Justin noticed, appeared to be an excessively large turkey.

"My little joke," Gorgon tittered, and Justin noticed that the other carcasses spread across the ceiling and dangling from meat-hooks in various states of decay or curing were decidedly human. Well, human_-ish,_ for several sported horns, extra heads or other appendages, and in a few cases, (he tried not to shudder), the delicate lattice of bone framework to show where wings had been.

Dizzy, Justin closed his eyes. A slimy tendril of cold blood fell from the ceiling and slid down the back of his neck. . He folded his wings flat against his back, as if that would protect them from what was dripping down.

At Gorog's chuckle, he opened his eyes again . "Your dregs of magic won't work in _here,_ my dear," he murmured, leaning in as if sharing a secret. "Oh yes, I know about that. I know about everything that happens here. I watch you sleep, and I know when you're awake. I know your _secrets,_ Justin. I'm like God here. " He smiled, and with his smile the claustrophobia in the room increased tenfold. Justin couldn't help but notice that the Dark Angel took no notice of the spatters of blood and other body fluids rained down on them; his face and suit became smeared and spattered with red, but he didn't seem aware of it at all.

Justin swallowed, hard. He had very few comfortable pretensions left, and this bad place forced that suppressed knowledge to the forefront of his brain. He wasn't a hardened evildoer, not a fiend from the pits. He was only a wizard boy far from home, his magic waning, his soul blackened by his own evil deeds, and his heart almost but not entirely broken by the world he thought he'd understood. The light in his eyes dimmed.

"Now," said the Master in a voice that was very nearly sane, leaning toward him, "Let's talk."

* * *

Justin was finding it hard to listen. It seemed that Gorog talked for a long time. He talked and talked, while Justin focused on not passing out or throwing up. Now, he seemed to be saying something about the nature of evil, and Justin tried hard to pay attention.

"The thing it comes down to, sweetheart, is and always was _choice_," he was saying. _ "_A man's choice. The choice of a Wizard or an Angel. _Your_ choice, Justin.

"Evil, you know, isn't absolute. It isn't all-powerful. Although," he interjected almost casually, "if you let that get around, I'll have to have your tongue removed. No, Justin, Evil always comes down to choice. And people, or Wizards, will choose it again and again, and do you know why?"

Justin said nothing. He'd said nothing so far, and it had been well-received. All around him, the nightmare-room loomed and dripped.

"Alright, scaredy-cat," the Dark Lord gloated, "I'll just tell you why. It is because in their secret hearts, people, wizards, and angels are selfish, Justin. They are cruel and petty: they are stalked by greed and fear and blinded by pride. They suffer from," he seemed to consider, "…ah, the very persuasive needs of the flesh, hmm?" He glanced at Justin with a commiserating look, as though they shared a secret, and then chuckled politely when the boy refused to return his smile. "Well. There is evil because of _you_, Justin, my cherub. Because of _all of you_. And because of you there always will be. _I'll_ certainly never want for business! What you are, _that_ is the true evil... Isn't that simply _delicious?_ Er, wouldn't you say? Eh?" He smiled beatifically, as if expecting applause.

"Say, that reminds me! Getting hungry?" The master made an odd flourish with his hands, and huge, steaming platter of something Justin very fervently _hoped_ was roast turkey with stuffing, appeared on the table between them. Gorgon twisted a leg free with a bone-breaking *crack*, his grin widening crazily.

"Yes, delicious! Would you perhaps care for a bite?" Justin felt his gorge rise.

He nodded, slowly. "I... I suppose it is, Sir, but I'm not hungry, thank you." He felt as though he was regressing, becoming the old Justin again, one with good table manners and deference to his elders. That Justin had been haunted by tremulous fears, but also blessed with a belief in the essential goodness of things. He was a good boy. A boy who stuttered in English but spoke Alien Languages fluently, and who, sometimes, saved the day. He felt, distantly, that he was becoming himself again. He _hated_ the way it felt.

Was it possible that he been Really Justin, Justin for Real, and unchanged, all along? He remembered what Rosie had said about his essential nature, how it couldn't be changed; only muted. Had he been lying to himself all this time, hoping to survive? The thought was a very bad one, and he quickly pushed it down into the secret part of himself, and turned away from it.

"So now, sweet boy, " Gorog was saying, "... the choice is yours. I'm offering you, alone among my legion, a choice. And here it is." The monster drew off his hat with a mild flourish, rummaging about in it, his hand disappearing up to the elbow. Justin tried not to stare at the cankerous and rotting flesh the hat concealed, the flesh of the Angel's scalp peeling away. It was almost as if he had died a long time before, and his process of decomposition was working away at him. He was feeling around in the hat like a stage magician who'd mislaid his magic trick. "Where... Blast it... ah! Here, then!" and he drew out a long, tea-colored parchment that curled up on itself at the ends, with golden letters that shone softly in defiance of the room's darkness. From the hat's brim he produced a quill. "Now then, you're not stupid, lad. I suppose you know what this is?"

"It's a contract," said Justin, dully.

Gorog beamed at him. "Good boy. And here's the extra credit... I know how you like extra credit...tell me what the contract will buy then, hmm?"

"My- My soul," said the fallen Wizard, the Dark Angel, his tongue thick in his mouth. Inside him, a heart that he hadn't realized be still retained, twinged.

"Good lad! Now here's the _really_ tough one... Tell me, Justin: _What's the price of your soul?" _

_Your SOUL your soul YOUR SOUL _

The monster's voice grew and grew until it reached the last syllable, when it twisted snakelike into his consciousness and bounced from the rusting walls of the room, booming._ the price of your soul price of your soul_... _price what's your price WHAT'S YOUR PRICE…_

It rose to a devilish cacophony, and the throatless things swaying above his head joined the chorus with jangling metal voices like the chains they hung from…

…Justin understood, with something like gratitude, that his mind was going to shatter. He lifted both hands to cover his ears... but the noise was gone. If, in fact, it had ever been.

Gorog slid the contract and the quill toward Justin. Justin backed away.

"No, no," The Master crooned, patting the air. "Don't decide _now._ It's a big decision isn't it, oh my yes! No, you just take that with you. I'm offering you your heart's desire, boy... and that's not an offer I make with regularity. But you... you're something special, eh? A fallen wizard, such a rare, powerful thing. Did you know your family is famous? I have great hopes for you, 'Justin Russo'... Great hopes!" He flashed him what he obviously thought of as a warm smile, though it chilled the young Wizard to his very bones.

"Come and join our little family, eh? I'll be Father and Mother to you, as well as Master... Just like I am to our dear Rosie." He chuckled, seemed to reconsider. "Well. Not _exactly_ like I am to Rosie."

Justin shuddered. Obediently he took the scroll and tucked it into his jacket, rising from his seat before he remembered there was nowhere to go.

"Take the pen," Gorgon reminded him, and he did. The nib pricked his him as he lifted it, and he stuck the thumb in his mouth to suck the drop of blood.

"You know, of course, what sort of ink to use for such a special contract, do you not? A smart boy like you?"

Justin grimaced. The wall of the room ran with gore, and death filled his nostrils. He nodded his head. He knew.

But... he had to ask. "And... If I don't sign it?"

Gorgon pointed above, to the hooks. "I'll come after you and flay the skin from your bones, m'boy. I'll let you watch while I kill what you love. And then I'll kill you for a long, long time after that."

His gaze held no humor at all. He settled the hat back on his head at a jaunty angle. "Did you have any more questions before we finish up?"

He didn't.

"Well, good then! Justin, I've enjoyed this more than I can say, but unfortunately I have another engagement to attend to. It's been a pleasure..." He rose, taking Justin's hand to shake it. Touching him was horrible, and Justin's stomach, controlled all this time, rebelled.

"... Do try and let me know by, oh, let's say midnight tonight, dear."

Justin nodded, dizziness and nausea overwhelming his senses. Oh god, that _smell..._

He pressed the demon's hand, remembering his manners… And the world spun around him in a crazy arc, and he was falling from and into the void.


	4. Chapter 4

_After midnight, before dawn: _

Justin stumbled back from the ledge, falling into the rooftop, retching. His mouth filled with a bitter acid that tasted of his ideals. His head throbbed unmercifully. Justin couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so dirty and sick, so alone in the world. He collapsed on the hard blacktop, grateful that no one was here to witness his degradation. Politely, someone cleared her throat.

Sitting on the parapet a few feet away, kicking her heels against the concrete, Rosie was waiting for him. She'd pulled an old Tshirt over her corset, and her makeup was smeary, which gave her a tired, worn look. She had bare legs and bare feet. Justin's aching head swum with an unexpected wave of sympathy for Rosie. _I've been with him so long,_ she'd said. Rosie with her sad smile and sinful curves. Rosie with her tragic, broken black heart... Rosie, who still loved him.

Whose tender green eyes were the wrong color entirely, whose smile would never reflect his own soul in exactly the right way, or be able to push his every last button with the effortlessness of someone who's spent years getting good at it, who would never own his foolish, shriveled heart. Sweet doomed Rosie, who would never, ever be enough.

Rosie tried to smile, but it came out crooked and wrong. "Are you going to do it?"

Justin leaned next to her, looking down at the lights of the city. It was too dark down there, and occasionally, a horn-blast or a scream drifted up, or the sound of crunching glass. But between such reminders, it looked, almost, like a peaceful place.

It _had _been a peaceful place. His home. He could have protected it; he'd been given the chance. Gorog was right about at least one thing: It all came down to choice. He could have saved what he'd loved, turned away from the darkness welling within him. Instead, he's been brought low by his own childish fears. With the naive and oddly self-centered insecurity of the very young, he'd believed in the dark recesses of his heart that no one could ever see him for who he was and still love him. He had believed, truly (stupidly) that there would be no one to stand by his side and let him be the hero, no one to accept all the love he was aching to be allowed to give. Certainly, not a beautiful girl with eyes like stars.

Now, like some horrible cosmic joke, he understood with perfect clarity that he's been separated forever from the only girl who ever _would._

Justin deserved it. He was a goddamned fool.

Fuck, but it was all _too much._ He hadn't asked to be made a part of this! He was just a kid! How could he possibly have know about this, foreseen it, had any kind of defense against it? He'd wanted the love of a girl, and had been given _this._

The world was goddamned unfair, if this could happen in it. Justin Russo, the old Justin Russo, he was a _good kid!_ He had wanted to get good grades and win the occasional fight with Alex and Max, to make his parents proud, to help a group of punk Wizard kids get back into their family competitions. He had wanted to get a pretty girl to kiss him... And here he was instead: Good and evil, sin and love, magic and darkness... all mixed up together.

Justin didn't want to be in a world that could have this possibility in it. A world that could hold Alex and Gorgon, Rosie and the Compass... a world like that was no goddamned fair.

"Justin? I said, are you going to do it?"

Justin looked at her, and a black hatred rose in him.

"You could have anything," she insisted, looking at him with terrible hope in her eyes. "I mean, anything, Justin. Fame. Money. Beautiful girls. Do you know how many people would give anything for a chance like this? Isn't there anything you've always wanted? Something you thought you could never have? How many people get this chance? It's your heart's desire!"

Rage rose up in him, and he wanted to strike her. "It's my _soul, _Rosie!" he shouted. "Nothing is worth that, do you understand me? Do you even remember what it was like to have one, or have you been dead so long that the word means nothing to you?" He saw her flinch, and knowing that he'd hurt her made him feel glad_._ _Oh Rosie _he thought_,_ _I could do so much more than make you cry. _

He was angry, more angry than he'd ever been in his life. He wanted to punish Rosie, to hurt her and break her and torment her for the things she'd done to him. He wanted to watch her suffer and draw pleasure from it as one draws heat from a campfire.

He'd spent so much of his life pushing his anger and his rage away from him, denying it... but he had it near him, now. It was hot and strong and good, and part of him wished he'd discovered it years ago. Now it was all gathered within him like a storm of rage and some dark, unsuspected at part of him yearned to spend it on the angel's soft, vulnerable body.

But as good as that would be… as much as she deserved it… he couldn't. His old self, it seemed, wasn't entirely dead after all; there was just enough left of him to protect a crying angel from the wrath of his own despairing heart. And she was such a broken thing. Was it really her fault?

Of course not. All the fault lay with Justin. The choice, after all had been his.

_In his memory, another, more distant Justin cries out, "My allegiance lies with Gorog!" In his mind's eye he sees his wand's last flume of dying magic escape as he snaps it in two_.

His fealty to Gorog had cost him so much. The Dark Lord, together with his pet Angel, had set in motion the series of terrible choices that robbed Justin of his freedom, his courage, and his birthright. They had taken his family and his home. They had fooled him into surrendering his magic. There was almost nothing left that meant life to him. Maybe it would be better to give up, give in. Join the Darkness forever.

The Dark Realm wanted him for some bad purpose he had yet to understand… They'd chosen him. Gorog and his brethren knew he was vulnerable, lonely. They saw there was an emptiness in him that the darkness would rush to fill. He didn't know what desecration they would force from him, but he knew it was coming all the same. He sensed it crouched in hiding, like an animal in the undergrowth. Gorog needed Justin, and he didn't need him for anything good.

But he hadn't taken everything... Justin still had one last choice that Gorog didn't control, hadn't knowingly gifted him with.

Justin could die.


	5. Chapter 5

So, Justin would die. Maybe it was better. After all, it was his fault that Darkness was walking the world.

He knew that after his death, Gorog might very well hurt the ones he loved. But he also knew that in all likelihood, Gorog would hurt them anyway. As the Dark Lord himself had pointed out, Justin wasn't stupid. He understood that couldn't stop that from happening. But he could do _this_, this one good thing. He could take away the weapon that was himself. He could refuse to do the bidding of the Dark Realm anymore. Even if no one ever knew it, he would die a hero. He would die knowing who he was.

"My soul. Nothing is worth that," he murmured again, feeling more sure of himself. Yes; this was right. Justin Russo was supposed to be a hero, not... not _this._

He swung his legs over the ledge, looking down as a rush of vertigo hit him, and Rosie watched him with her dead eyes. In those eyes, the stars had long ago gone out. It was a thing that had happened long before she had been used as a trap for Justin. Below him, the street ran with lights, a tiny glowing river. _It will be easy_, he thought. Like diving into deep water. Like going to sleep. Like... forgetting.

He braced his hands on the concrete and breathed in deeply, gathering his strength for that one, hard push, and far below, a flash of color drew his eye. He squinted down into the gloom.

It was his imagination, surely. Or not? There, at the corner and spotlighted by a surviving streetlight, he imagined he could just make out the tiny, familiar figure of in a rose-colored top and high boots, staring up into the dark as if she knew exactly where the invisible Fortress lay. One lone Wizard girl who had no business being here, and no reason to call on Justin.

Justin breathed out.

Slowly, carefully, he crawled back onto the roof, his heart racing with adrenalin. He pulled himself back up to the ledge, and trembling peered down. There was no one down there.

He'd been… he'd been wrong. Hadn't he? Had she simply walked on? Had Justin seen her there at all? Maybe Justin's mind was playing tricks on him, offering him a reason to live, to come down from the ledge, a reason to do anything other than surrender. If so, Justin's mind was a dirty traitor.

But as crouched shivering over the city, he realized that it didn't even matter. Real, not real... what was the difference? It was the _idea_ of her. In his moment of indecision, the idea of her had taken hold of him, burrowing into his heart and threatening to fill the emptiness he'd come to value so much_._

_Your heart's desire_, Gorog had said.

_Isn't there anything you want, Justin?_

"Well," he whispered, his smile as thin and sharp as broken glass, "There might be _one_ thing."

Something dark spread its wings within him.


	6. Chapter 6

It's so _dark _in here. Dark, and cold. She doesn't know where she is, only that it's on a rooftop somewhere, because of how distant the sounds are. Because of the way the wind moves around the tops of the buildings, cold and vindictive. And, duh, because she's been abducted by _Angels. _The bad kind. The thought '_Angels like Justin?'_ flutters at the edge of her mind, but she sends it away.

There's no point asking _why_ she'd been stolen – this sort of thing happens all the time, now. The world has been controlled by Darkness for less than a month, but everything has changed.

Her arms and legs hurt. She's sore all over, chained to a wall of rough stone by her wrists and ankles. Her arms have been bound above her head, her legs forced wide. The heavy chains on her cuffs are so short, she can hardly move at all. Her shoulders throb from being in one position for so long, and the delicate skin of her wrists has rubbed raw against metal cuffs.

She hears footsteps outside her prison. Many feet at first, then what she thinks is just one pair. Pacing, back and forth. Back… and forth. Trapped in this dark box, she feels a stifling panic: _She's going to die here._ She's going to suffer horribly, in ways that she can't even let herself think about, probably, and then she's going to die. She's not naïve; has no illusions about what happens to pretty girls that the Angels carry away. And although she's tried, so hard, to break herself of the habit, the traitorous thought, _if only Justin were here_ rises like a ghost from her mind.

…And then, as if her prayers have been heard and answered, he is.

The room's only door opens with a dramatic shotgun-crack of stiff hinges, and light floods the room, blinding her. She can't see the newcomer's face. The door closes again, and she hears the subtle, unmistakable _snick_ of a lock sliding home. The light is replaced with darkness, and then the darkness gives way to a soft glow from his electric lantern. He hangs it on a hook, and turns to her.

"_Justin!"_ she cries, and in the two syllables of his name are all her confusion, relief, joy. She knows that she hates him, but she's just so _glad _to see him. _Justin_, and he's _alive._ He's come to save her, right?

"Alex," he says flatly, not returning her excitement. He approaches her, only something's wrong, badly wrong, he's not even moving like himself. He walks all slow and sneaky, like some predator that only comes out at night; He's walking like _them._ Like all of the rest of the bad guys that stalk the nights and days now, the monsters on two legs, with dirty wings and bad ideas. A terrible suspicion blooms in her mind.

(Her own wings are dirty and bent - she's never been great at looking after her things... but they're white, beneath the grime.)

Swallowing hard, she takes him in. Justin. _Her brother._ All the hate rushes out of her, becoming unreal. If it ever was real to begin with. "I've missed you so much," she says, but the joy in voice is dying, getting tiny and drying up. She sees how he's dressed, all in black. Notes the flatness of his eyes, the color of his wings. Her suspicions? Yeah. Confirmed.

But he says, "I've missed you too," in a breathy way that sounds kind of surprised, like that's not what he meant to say, and the words are all pushed together. He's rushing to close the distance between them, and she's in his arms. "Alex," he says, and for a second it's almost like nothing has changed at all, "Are you okay? They didn't hurt you?"

Okay? Um, how about _no._

"Never better," she says, dryly. She doesn't even bother to arm herself with sarcasm, she's beyond caring. Besides, she doesn't want to waste energy thinking up cutting remarks. She just, well, she wants to be in his arms for a second, alright? Whatever lame thing that is, whatever it means, no one is here to see it. That makes it okay.

It's almost, almost like being safe. But nothing is safe anymore, and this least of all. She's still in chains, and she's still in the lonely, scary place, and Justin is here but Justin has _changed._

This new Justin presses his face into her hair, and beneath the stiff posture and the silence she can feel him trembling. "Oh Alex," he gasps, "You're _here." _She has a brief ridiculous impulse to comfort _him,_ to take him in her arms and tell him he's going to be okay, she'll think of something. Of course, her wrists are in handcuffs, and the handcuffs are hooked onto the wall by this short little chain, and she doesn't even have her wand, so that's sort of out of the question. She pushes her cheek against his and closes her eyes.

His entire body shudders when they touch, and he's standing close, so close… and he's…he's… he's holding her in the wrong way. She understands that her first impressions weren't wrong; she knows why he's brought her here, to this horrible place. They're too much alone here, there are secrets in the air between them and she's _always_ been able to read her brother, and it's too late for her to fail to understand. Terror floods her mind.

This is… its all wrong! It's Justin and Justin's supposed to save her, it's his _job_, but instead he's holding her wrong, he's breathing funny, and she's _chained to the wall._ And this can't be happening, alright? Not to her, and not with him. Please, if this has to be happening, make it be with anyone else but him. His cold betrayal hurts worse than anything he's ever done to her.

So far.

"Justin, _please,_" she wails, struggling, although struggling at this point is practically a joke.

"That's right," he says softly, bringing his face close to hers. "…beg."

Alex squeezes her eyes closed to shut him out, shivering. She's terribly, terribly cold. The cuffs are like ice. "Justin. This isn't you. I'm _your sister_… your little sister, Justin! …Don't do this."

He sighs against her hair, his fingers resting on her hips. "I've always sort of liked it when you beg," he admits. He's trying to sound cruel, but he's trembling, she can feel it. This, then, is a Justin she knows, even through her haze of dread: Justin's trying to sound like one of the cool kids. To be the thing he thinks everyone expects. But she knows when he's faking it; always she's known the difference. His hands glide from her hips to her waist, pausing while he presses his forehead to hers. His breath is coming sharp and shallow. It feels hot against her face. She can feel the rise and fall of his chest. She opens her eyes.

Alex tries again, but something slippery and dark is rising from the pit of her stomach, spreading to her limbs and her brain. "Justin, you don't want-"

"I've always wanted," he gasps, at the same time.

"...to do this," his sister breathes.

"...to do this," he whispers, his words and intentions falling clumsily on top of hers and getting all tangled up, until it's hard to tell what belongs to who.

"This is _wrong,"_ Alex whispers, like a warning. Her tears are flowing again, salty in her mouth, running stickily down the side of her neck.

"No," he pleads doggedly, kissing her soft skin, "No, no it can't be. It feels _right._ Please, Alex. It's the only thing left that does," He's pressing his parted lips to her jaw over and over, tasting the water and salt of her tears. She feels each agonizingly slow kiss as it's placed with infinite care, like he's leaving an indelible mark, then sealed with a gentle, persistent suction. His tongue fluttering against her as he tastes her skin. His fingers tighten on her waist, pull her into the heat of his body and then don't let go, as if he needs to hold her down. As if maybe she could escape. His body, lean and with newfound strength, feels tight as a tripwire against her, a coiled tension just barely held in check.

Alex understands, in a distant kind of way, that she should be pressing herself back into the wall of her prison to demonstrate that she's not going along with this, and not arching her back to encourage him instead. If she wishes her legs were free, it's because she would use them to kick and fight and to run away, and absolutely _would not_ wrap them around her brother's waist while she rocks her hips into his, harder and faster than she can with such a limited range of motion. If she gets the chance, she wants to be sure to deny this. Even more, she wants to deny the need expanding in her core like a warhead, like the obliteration of the line between sin and love, destructive and unstoppable. For all her posturing, she wants to be a good person; it comes with the wings.

Now his fingers are gliding along her rib cage, and she holds her breath. His palms are sweaty, searing damp heat through her shirt. A part of her mind thinks about the stains he's leaving on the rose-colored silk, one of her favorite shirts. Another part wonders why he isn't hurting her, taking her by force, if he wants to possess her so badly. But those thoughts are dim; most of her is locked inside her head, screaming. _But it's Justin. He'd never hurt me! He can't! He never would!_

And it's true that he isn't hurting her. He's scaring her very badly, but it doesn't hurt. It feels... kind of… amazing. Inevitable, even. It feels _right._

Oh, but this is _wrong._ Justin is a Dark Angel and that's what's making him touch her this way. He's _bad. _Not the good, fun kind of bad - the other kind. If she likes it... is she bad, too? Will she be like him, now? Only… only she's missed him so badly, and now he's here, and she shouldn't be glad, but a part of her _is_. His hands cover her breasts, and she swallows a moan. The saturating cold is replaced with his feverish heat. A deep, pulsing ache throbs through her nerve endings. "You're scaring me, Justin," she whispers.

"You've scared me all your life," he whispers back, as his lips brush her throat.

"_Please_," she says again, or maybe it's just in her head this time. She doesn't even know what she's asking for, now. Please stop? Please, keep going? Please, can we keep the lock on the door and stay like this? Please, can't the world just save _itself_ for once?

Her brother's lips suck at her throat, and a deep groan works its way out of her chest. He's hard against her hip, and she's flushed with shame and some other kind of heat. _"Justin." _

He palms her breasts through the abused silk, massages her aching flesh. She feels his breath while his lips track the tear-trails across her jaw, stopping to suckle at her pulse point. His thumbs find her swollen nipples, circling them through the cloth, pinching lightly until she begins to groan. Alex reaches for him, making the chains rattle, and the cuffs burn against her chafed wrists. Justin presses soft-mouthed kisses to her wet cheeks. He licks a fat tear from the outer corner of her eye before it can fall.

"Justin, my _hands?_"

"Sorry," he husks, chastised, and all at once it's like home. She thinks about all the arguments he's missed. He lifts his own hands to circle her cuffs, apparently forgetting he's no longer a wizard, and they fall away at his touch. His sister sighs with relief. He takes her hands, examining the rising welts guiltily, and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"I've always known..." He falters. There are tears in his voice that don't show in his eyes.

Alex shakes her head, the tears coming faster now, but he doesn't, can't heed her denial. "Why, Alex?" His voice is strained, as if siphoning all the hurt and need of his nineteen years. "Why wouldn't you ever give me a chance?" he whispers. "I could have loved you... I think maybe... maybe I'm supposed to."

It's crazy, what he's saying. "You're my _brother,"_ she whispers.

"_That's not my fault!"_ he snarls, and she flinches. Lifting his head, he takes her face between his hands. "I'll always take care of you, Alex," he pleads. "It'll always be me... you have to believe me. It was always supposed to be the two of us... Alex and Justin." Gently, he kisses her forehead. "Stay here," he whispers. "Stay with me." He kisses her between the eyes. "Stay." He kisses the tip of her nose, then pulls back to look into her face, searching for something. His eyes are so hurt, his need so naked.

_Believe me. _He's insane, thinking he has any right to ask her for that, after all he's done. There's something badly wrong with him.

There must be something wrong with her too, though. Because, god help her, she does.

_Justin._ There's a sound like shattering glass as something breaks inside Alex. When Justin left them, she'd thought it was gone forever, this feeling of being completely whole. But it was only dormant in her, waiting. And now… here, in this glorified cage on the rooftop above their ruined city... now the ice around her heart is cracking apart. She understands that it doesn't matter where they are, or what the world outside does; as long as they're together, she'll be alright.

Justin waits, watching her. Alex can hear the blood roaring in her ears, like rushing water.

"... Okay," she breathes, following her instincts, like she's always done.

Justin flinches, staring up to look into her face. His expression is almost... familiar, again. "What...? What did you say?"

She tries to smile, although the fat tears gathering to spill over her lids probably spoil the effect. "I said, yes. It's okay. Whatever you're going to do," her heart lurches crazily, and she throbs between her legs, "...I'm, well. I'm okay with it. This is you we're talking about, right?" her smile grows genuine. "I trust you, Justin."


	7. Chapter 7

_Yesterday:_

_"You do understand that once we bring her here and she becomes yours... She'll belong to the Dark Realm, right? Gorog told him as he accepted the contract signed in Justin's blood. Once you... consummate your reunion, so to speak, her transformation will begin."_

_Justin paled. "Did you say… consummate?"_

_At Justin's look, Gorog laughed his madman's laugh. "That's right! You do know what that word means, don't you, egghead? Hm?" _

_Justin cringed, at the nickname as much as the implication. "Yes, but… "_

_Gorog tipped his head back, reciting in a scholarly tone: "Consummate. Verb. Meaning, to bring to a state of perfection. To fulfill. To complete – pay attention to this one, boy – an agreement or arrangement, such as the signing of a contract." He looked at Justin. _

_"You want her to sign a contract?" _

_Gorog laughed heartily, as if that was a pretty good one. Justin supposed it was. "No, no. You've done all the signing that needs to be done here, dear. And with your one wish, you've already, er, 'brought her into the fold' so to speak. Once she's under your power, her consent will no longer be necessary." He glanced at Justin, saw that he wasn't getting it, and expounded, "Think of a child—eh, no, that's not right. Think of… think of it like pet ownership, Justin. Like a dog, or a bunny rabbit. You become responsible for it, and it no longer has as many choices to make, yes?"_

_Justin thought of Rosie and her dead eyes. "Like Rosie," Justin he said aloud, without meaning to speak. But Gorog was in a rare mood, and he only laughed at the insolence. _

_"Exactly, just like Rosie! You don't think coming here was HER idea, do you?"_

_Justin hadn't thought about it at all, as a matter of fact. "You stole her?" he asked, dumbfounded. "I thought… I thought she'd chosen this." _

_"Hmm, no – that little matter was decided for her. You see, her contract was signed by someone else who had sufficient influence over her heart and mind - someone with a legitimate claim to her soul, you might say."_

_Justin, despite himself, was horrified. "You can do that?"_

_His master chuckled. "Of course, my boy, but of course! Why, that's just one more reason why love is such a dangerous state... Personally, I never touch the stuff. No, Rosie certainly didn't come here of her own free will. However, hers was a trade, rather than a contractual obligation. You see, I spared that little brat's life, in exchange for her immortal soul, which I think has worked out well for everyone."_

_That little brat… "Tina?"_

_Gorog snapped his fingers in recognition. "That's the one. An incredibly annoying little baby angel that we caught and were planning to dispose of. The Guardian Angel Headquarters authorized the trade, and little Rosie had no say in the matter. Of course, the fact that we'd have an immediate legal claim on the brat if Rosie ever escaped may have induced her to stay, I can't really say. Rather a sweet story, wouldn't you say? But we weren't talking about Rosie… we were talking about finalizing the contract."_

_Justin nodded. "I've signed it already." _

_"And so you have," Gorog agreed. "But there's the little matter of finalizing the terms, you see. Which brings us back to the idea of consummation. Now, you'll need to seal the deal with a very specific physical act, in order to…"_

_"I can't do that! She's my sister!" he burst out. _

_Gorog raised his eyebrows, puzzled."You can't kiss your little sister? Dear me, what kind of a backwards family did you come from?"_

_"Wait," said Justin. "Kiss her?"_

_"Of course, kiss her! That's the physical act!"_

_"A kiss. To… consummate… the bargain?" _

_"Just so! You'll finalize our agreement with a kiss, of course. Just a simple kiss! On the lips, I should add. It's an old tradition here, from way back in the time of Judas. Why, what did you think you had to do?" _

_Justin shook his head. "Nothing."_

_"Well, then we're all set, aren't we?" said Gorog, jovial. "Ah, I do love family reunions. So very touching!"_

_"Wait—" said Justin, and the black look of impatience in the Dark Lord's eyes nearly made him take it back. But he forced himself to ask, because he had to know. "It won't… hurt her, will it? It won't.. do something terrible to her?"_

_Gorog gave him a level look, all his artificial merriment gone. He's tired of this game, and Justin would probably do well to let the matter drop. "What, the Change? No worse than what it did to Rosie," he said. "And you like her well enough, as I recall." _

_Then he snapped his gloved fingers together, and Justin was alone._

* * *

"I trust you," Alex says, her dark eyes big and scared and brave, brimming with tears and love for Justin. Her eyes are so deep, he thinks. In there, he could drown.

_(stars)_

She reaches for him, turning her mouth to fit his, as they've always fitted together.

He tries to jerk his head back, out of her reach, but Alex is faster. Her soft arms are around his neck, one hand buried in his hair to pull him to her. _(Everything he's ever wanted) _His cry of alarm is muffled against her mouth. Before anything can be changed, she kisses him.

Her lips are soft and warm and almost unbearably good, and her little tongue slides against his lower lip until he opens his mouth to let her in. She tastes of pickles and childhood, fear and longing, tastes like the cinnamon he's allergic to but craves anyway, like something he can't live without. She tastes like sin and hope and dying and coming home. Did he think that Alex was a fair trade for his innocence and his magic... his very soul? He couldn't have been more wrong. She's far, far more precious than his soul.

The world spins around him. Good and evil, sin and love, magic and darkness... all mixed up together. There's too, too much in the world. Monsters and Angels. Sisters and lovers and a crack in the surface of things to let the darkness come in. The world is a dirty trick, a thousand wrong choices, just waiting to be made. A thousand different points of no return. There's a new darkness lurking behind every dream.

…And Alex. Always, always, there's Alex.

_What has he done?_

He wrenches his lips from hers, screws his eyes shut as she begins to change, but not before he sees her wings begin to blacken at the tips. He crumples on legs that will no longer hold him.

"Justin?" she whispers. "What's happening? I feel so strange…"

He sinks to his knees, shaking, wrapping his arms around his sister's legs.

"Justin?"

What has he done to her? What in God's name... or maybe in Gorog's name… has he done to Alex? Her voice rises in a scream.

"_Justin, please!"_

What has he sacrificed to his loneliness and terror, his lust and greed?_ He takes it back, he takes it all back! They can take him, instead. The cost is too high! _Frantically, his mind works at the problem, pulling it apart like a difficult equation, looking for a seam in darkness that's closing in. _What has he done to her, with his love?_

Echoing in his mind, he hears the mad laughter of his Master.

_More precious than his soul_. But it's too late. Forehead pressed to her knees, he weeps.

**(The End)**

* * *

******A/N: Well, and so it is the end - in more ways that one, it seems. Poor Alex. **

**But I'm strongly considering a sequel - if you'd like that, please let me know! And, while you're feeling communicative, I'd be grateful if you'd tell me how I did with the angst? It's not really my normal gig, and I enjoyed it immensely, and I'm half-convinced I effed it up. If you tell me where I went off the track, I can do that bit a little better next time. If you tell me where I went right, maybe I'll be able to do it again. ;) **

**So review, don't review - in any event, thanks for reading. That in itself is pretty amazing. **

**-C. **


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